


in which Jisung gets (briefly) kidnapped (again)

by Iris_Duncan_72



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, BAMF Bang Chan, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Ji's just doing his best okay, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Violence, it's a mess and i apologise for nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21992296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iris_Duncan_72/pseuds/Iris_Duncan_72
Summary: Being CB97's boyfriend is sometimes an occupational hazard.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Han Jisung | Han
Comments: 25
Kudos: 367





	in which Jisung gets (briefly) kidnapped (again)

Jisung was startled when his walk home from the supermarket was interrupted by a gruff voice behind him instructing him not to scream and the familiar bump of a gun muzzle against his spine, but only briefly. It’d been a while since the last time anyone had tried this, after all. What was it – three years? Four?

‘Get in that grey car up ahead,’ the rough voice ordered and Jisung’s eyes fell on an SUV with tinted windows.

He sighed very quietly and did as he was told. No point causing a fuss; he knew how these things went.

As soon as he climbed into the back, gloved hands reached out and hauled him further in, making him drop his shopping bags on the floor and tipping him onto the seat.

‘Hey, be careful,’ he protested, struggling to sit up as his wrists were bound with a zip-tie. ‘There are breakable things in there.’

‘Shut up,’ the masked man beside him growled.

Jisung raised a brow, unimpressed, swaying slightly as the car peeled away from the roadside. ‘Do you want me to cooperate or not?’

The man stared at him, nonplussed.

‘Pick up my bags or I’m not being helpful anymore,’ Jisung said stubbornly.

The two masked men in the middle row of seats turned to him, one lifting a handgun and pointing it right at his face.

‘You’ll do as you’re told if you don’t wanna get hurt,’ the thug snarled.

Jisung scoffed. ‘Don’t talk utter crap. You kidnapped me for a reason and we all know what it is. Shooting me will only make this situation much, much worse for you.’

Even the guy sitting shotgun turned around at that, all of the kidnappers seeming quite bemused by his blatant lack of worry.

‘What, you think this is the first time someone’s tried to get to “the great CB97” through his boyfriend?’ Jisung smirked, leaning back in his seat. ‘Hardly. Now, pick up my fucking olives.’

The thug grudgingly picked up the bags and tucked them securely into the corner of the backseat.

Jisung grinned. ‘Smart move. Which isn’t saying much, really, since you thought kidnapping _me_ was anything other than bloody suicidal, but I guess you take your victories where you can get them, right? Oh, and where are we going, by the way? I only ask because I get carsick on long –’

He gasped involuntarily at the sudden pinch of a needle stabbing into the side of his neck and didn’t have time to do more than slur, ‘ _Bastard_ ,’ before the drugs knocked him out cold.

The cute little egg timer buzzed loudly on the counter and Chan, armed with cat print kitchen gloves, opened the oven and whipped out both trays of lemon muffins. He closed the oven with his hip and set the trays down on the stove, casting a critical eye over the steaming gold mounds. Slipping off a mitten, he grabbed a skewer and stabbed a couple of the muffins, allowing himself a proud smile when the skewer came out clean. Removing the other glove, he switched off the oven, silenced the timer, and collapsed back on the kitchen chair with a sigh.

It wasn’t that long ago that anything Chan put in the oven invariably emerged smoking, charred, or actually on fire so, yeah, he was feeling pretty pleased. And Jisung, who _loved_ lemon muffins, would no doubt be _very_ pleased. Chan’s smile stretched wider; Jisung was always generous with his appreciation and Chan could probably expect a good ten-minute making out session when –

His phone vibrated noisily, a tinny rendition of Mamamoo’s _Taller Than You_ coming from the dining table. The ringtone was Jisung’s awful idea of a joke and Chan rolled his eyes as he strode past the kitchen island to the table and grabbed the phone. Why would Jisung be calling? He’d only gone to the supermarket and _he_ had written the shopping list, anyway.

Swiping the answer icon, Chan lifted the phone to his ear. ‘Hey, babe, what’s up?’

_‘I need you not to get angry, okay?’_

And just like that, all thoughts of warm muffins and sweet kisses vanished from Chan’s mind. His posture straightened and his tone sharpened. ‘What happened?’

A gusty sigh. _‘I was snatched on my way home. I’m sorry, hyung.’_

Chan realised Jisung’s voice was dragging, the ends of his words slurring into each other, like he was half-awake. Like he’d been drugged. Chan’s grip on the phone tightened and something very cold and very nasty opened its eyes deep within him.

‘What do they want?’ His words were clipped, his tone brusque – _slipping back into old habits_ – but he couldn’t gentle it.

A second voice spoke, gruff and mean. _‘You. Come alone. One hour. If you’re late or we catch any hint of backup, your boyfriend starts losing fingers.’_ The man rattled off an address and then the line went dead.

Chan didn’t move for a long second, fighting to control himself, to not scream or throw his phone at the wall. He exhaled shakily through his nose. Now was not the time to rage uselessly – Jisung was in danger.

With that thought at the forefront of his mind, Chan stormed down the hall to his and Jisung’s bedroom. Throwing open the doors to their walk-in wardrobe, he flicked the switch next to the one for the lights and the back wall split, the two halves retracting to reveal Chan’s personal armoury. He was on a tight schedule, though, so he moved quickly, selecting a few weapons even as he made another call.

_‘Sup, boss.’_

‘Where are you?’

_‘Uh, at work. Where else would I be on a Tuesday afternoon?’_

‘Sounds boring.’

_‘You got something better to offer?’_

‘How about murder?’

_‘...I’m listening.’_

Jisung’s head rolled back against the huge shipping container that was propping him up and stared at the scene before him with hazy vision. Two thugs stood in front of him, handguns holstered at their hips, hefty knives strapped to their thighs. All very intimidating, except they didn’t seem to have one functioning brain cell between the pair of them. Neither did the two kidnappers manning the hastily-constructed tech stand, no doubt monitoring the warehouse’s security cams on the laptop.

In fact, the _only_ man who seemed to be even vaguely competent was the one was obviously in charge. That one, who had something wrong with his face, was pacing a short track in the middle of the cavernous room, not too far from the doors, not too far from cover, not too far from Jisung. Jisung wondered if the man surrounded himself with gun-toting idiots to make himself feel smarter. The thought made him huff faintly in amusement. Laughing outright was a bit beyond him right now – whatever the fuck he’d been dosed with packed one _hell_ of a punch.

Jisung let his gaze wander aimlessly between the seven thugs, the final two of them on guard duty near the main entrance. He wondered when Chan was going to get here and if he was _extremely_ angry or just very cross. Probably the former; there was no way he’d missed Jisung’s sloppy manner of speaking.

The minutes ticked by, slow as molasses on a cold day.

He wondered if his olives were still alright.

Then, just as Jisung was working up the strength to ask who these people actually _were_ , one of the men at the computer station said clearly, ‘He’s here.’

The leader stopped, head whipping around to face the thug, and asked, ‘Where? How long till he’s at the doors? Does he have any backup?’

‘He’s parked in the main carpark. ETA two minutes and, uh, that’s a negative, sir. Eagle in the next did a sweep three minutes ago.’

Jisung hummed quietly to himself, feeling drug-muted excitement. There was really only one way this was going to go. All he had to do was sit tight and not get shot until Chan got to him. And no, he didn’t feel guilty about playing the part of damsel in distress, dragging Chan into danger – Chan _thrived_ off danger. It was probably the only reason he’d lived this long, quite frankly. As for the rest, a couple of years of therapy plus being taught how to handle a knife, a gun, a garrotte, and simple explosives so he _could_ (sometimes) look after himself went a long way towards easing any guilt.

Besides, it wasn’t like Jisung had _asked_ to be kidnapped and fuck anyone who said it was his fault. Especially fuck anyone who said it was _Chan’s_ fault.

The two guards suddenly lifted their guns in unison and Jisung smiled a little dopily, knowing exactly who had arrived. All attention moved at once to the door and then Chan walked in, cool as a cucumber. Taut silence filled the room for a moment and Chan’s fierce eyes found Jisung almost immediately, narrowing at the latter’s state. And maybe it really wasn’t the time to be thinking such thoughts but _damn_ did Chan look fine with his jaw-length chocolate bangs drawn back from his face in a short, curly tail.

_Jesus fuck,_ priorities _, idiot,_ priorities _,_ Jisung scolded himself.

‘Ah, CB97,’ the man nominally in charge said, teeth bared in a mockery of a grin. ‘So good of you to come. It’s been too long.’

Despite there being no less than three guns pointed at him, Chan’s attention was fixed on the man, hands open and empty at his sides. ‘Lee Seokmin?’ Chan frowned, plainly incredulous. ‘I killed you, what, eight years ago?’

‘No such luck,’ Lee Seokmin snarled, slowly shrinking the distance between them until he was level with his guards. ‘You may have taken my eye –’ _so that’s what’s wrong with his face –_ ‘but nothing more.’

_Depth perception,_ Jisung’s brain oh-so-helpfully offered.

Chan very nearly growled. ‘That’s what this is, then? Revenge? Tell me why I shouldn’t put a bullet through your other eye right now.’

Oh boy.

With a metallic clinking noise, two more guns rose to point at Chan and Jisung really wanted to lament his boyfriend’s monumental lack of tact.

Lee Seokmin barked a laugh. ‘Because your pretty boy will die, too.’

‘Don’t you fucking touch him.’ The words ripped out of Chan’s mouth like knives, his hands forming fists.

Lee Seokmin sneered. ‘Or what?’ And with the same breath – ‘Break his finger.’

Jisung barely had time to register what had been said and feel the attendant swoop of panic in his gut before one of the thugs turned around, reached down, and bent Jisung’s left pinky finger back far enough to snap.

Jisung screamed. Shock crashed over him like a leaden wave and his body jerked violently. Combined with the drugs in his system, it took the sharpest edge off the pain but _holy shit that fucking hurt –_

A suppressed _crack_ echoed off the warehouse walls and the offending thug bellowed in agony, dropped to his knees and clutching his wrist as blood sprayed out of the brand new hole through his palm.

‘I said, _don’t you fucking touch him,_ ’ Chan spat, handgun still directed at the wailing man.

Cries of alarm and anger sounded, weapons being cocked, the safety turned off. Lee Seokmin spluttered something in red-faced outrage but Jisung wasn’t listening. His eyes fluttered shut and he groaned, not entirely due to the building pain in his hand. Chan was mad. Chan was so, so mad. Honestly, not a big surprise – he always got absolutely _livid_ anytime Jisung was hurt.

(Jisung had knocked a glass off the counter a few months ago and cut his foot on a shard while tidying the wreckage up. Chan had taken this as a personal affront, carrying Jisung everywhere and practically hissing at their glassware for weeks. They were working on it, okay.)

‘I’ve been trying to cut back on killing people lately but you, Seokmin, have just earned yourself a death certificate,’ Chan growled, a terrible intensity to his words.

Lee Seokmin was panting with fury as he whipped a weighty gun out of his hip holster to aim at Chan. ‘Big words from someone who’s outnumbered seven to one. Time to meet your maker –’

_‘Spear B.’_

Jisung opened his eyes in time to see both tech guys and a door guard go down with a terminal case of bullet-to-the-skull in the time it took to take a breath. He gaped in sheer astonishment.

Chan dived to one side and shot the second doorman in the face just as Lee Seokmin pulled the trigger, his bullet passing harmlessly over Chan’s head. Jisung’s uninjured guard shot twice at Chan, cursing loudly, but missed both times, nearly hitting his boss instead. Lee Seokmin fired again but the tip of Chan’s boot connected solidly with his knee and he shrieked, flailing for a moment. Jisung’s minder grunted and collapsed backwards as blood started pumping out of his abdomen, the invisible Spear B having caught him.

Then the man with a hole in his hand made a desperate noise and seized Jisung by the shoulder, jarring him awfully and tearing a wavering moan of pain from him. The thug hauled Jisung in front of him like a shield but Jisung toppled to one side, too woozy to stay upright. He was grabbed again a second later, only this time by the throat, and he choked and wheezed, stars cartwheeling across his vision.

‘Stay back! Don’t shoot me or –’

There was a wet crunch and the thug crumpled, mid-tirade, and Jisung fell forward, coming dangerously close to blacking out as he landed on his hands. He raised his head with effort and wasn’t overly surprised to see Chan crouched gargoyle-style on Lee Seokmin’s chest, gun muzzle flush to the panicking man’s forehead.

‘Karma’s a bitch,’ Chan snarled and shot him, unflinching as the bloody backlash splattered against his face.

There was a shivering second of quiet, a confirmation that all the kidnappers were dead, and then Jisung’s swelling knuckle throbbed and he hissed, flopping onto his back.

‘Jisung!’

The patter of boots on concrete and then Chan’s worried face came into view. Gentle hands carefully pulled Jisung upright and Chan made a noise in his throat at the sight of Jisung’s injured hand.

‘Hell of an end to a food run,’ Jisung mumbled, head propped up on Chan’s shoulder.

Chan huffed, the sound a little too full of relief to be a laugh. ‘Let’s get you to the hospital, shall we?’

Jisung hummed in assent, eyelids beginning to droop despite the burn of his broken finger. ‘Don’t forget the shopping; it should be in the car they brought me here in.’

‘Of course you’re still thinking about the food, of course,’ Chan snorted, rising to his feet with Jisung cradled in his arms.

‘And say thank you to our friendly sniper. Tell him he’s invited to dinner again.’

Chan sighed as he walked them out of the warehouse into the mild afternoon air. ‘He says thanks, he’ll come around you’re feeling better.’

‘Good.’ Jisung snuggled a little deeper into Chan’s hold, then paused and inhaled deeply, cracking open an eye. ‘Were you baking, hyung? I smell lemons.’

His plump lips puffing out a bit, Chan glanced down. ‘Maybe.’

‘How’d it go?’

‘Guess you’ll just have to wait and see.’

Jisung grunted in protest but allowed himself to be manhandled into the front of Chan’s car. However, when Chan went to shut the door, Jisung reached out and grabbed the front of his jacket with his uninjured hand.

‘Yes?’ Chan asked, his eyes soft with affection despite the brisk question.

‘Kiss. Haven’t had one yet,’ Jisung pouted. ‘What’s the point of getting kidnapped and rescued if my dashing saviour doesn’t give me a kiss?’

Chan’s dimples appeared as he grinned. ‘You’re right, very remiss of me.’

Arms braced on the doorframe, he leaned in, the warmth of his body making Jisung want to purr in content. Their lips met and the kiss was warm and sweet (and definitely tasting of lemons).

‘We can go now,’ Jisung murmured against Chan’s mouth.

Chan nipped his lower lip and kissed the tip of his nose. ‘Two ticks while I grab the shopping.’

_Half an hour later_

‘Uh, hyung?’

‘Mmm?’

‘You might wanna wipe the blood off your face before we get to the hospital.’

‘....Oh. Yeah.... Thanks, Ji.’

‘No problem, gorgeous.’

**Author's Note:**

> i binged on the mandalorian (and his son), read about ten fanfics for it, then this Happened. i hope you enjoyed this (un)regularly scheduled dose of (questionably) justifiable violence which is basically an excuse for me to vent some bloodlust uwu
> 
> (yes, baf II is still underway, bear with me pls ;;)


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